


Sanctum

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 07:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: Tony visits Stephen frequently at the Sanctum. Maybe a little too frequently: he's come to recognize Stephen's neighbors, and vice versa.





	Sanctum

**Author's Note:**

> so this may be a good time to admit that i closely follow the new Doctor Strange comics (2018). Waid & Saiz are a creative power duo and their teamup (esp. with Saiz’s new hot look for Strange) gives me life.
> 
> vol. 9 is just the right amount of cute for me. stephen strange being a domestic bachelor enjoying suburban life makes for fun headcanon.
> 
> and tony stark frequently hanging out at his place is just a nice, extra-domestic, extra-cute touch. ENJOY THE FLUFF.
> 
> originally posted on [tumblr](http://babywarg.tumblr.com/post/180924251574/ironstrange-ficlet-sanctum).

“Back for another visit, Mr. Stark?”  
  
Tony had specifically picked an off hour on a weekday to visit, because he had wanted to enter the Sanctum without being noticed.  
  
Alas, Mrs. Feldstein, being retired, had no job, or many other activities to keep her indoors and out of other people’s business.  
  
His guest’s discomfort was amusing, and Stephen had to smile as he watched it blossom.  
  
“Uh…hi, Mrs. Feldstein. Yes! Just can’t stay away from this guy, you know?” Tony gestured to Stephen, whose smile seemed to grow even brighter.  
  
“Is that so?” the small, white-haired elderly neighbor cheerfully remarked. “It’s always nice to know that Stephen has such good friends who check up on him. Sometimes we worry about him, all alone in that big house…”

“That’s very kind of you.” Stephen didn’t need to ask who “we” were - he knew that her and his other neighbors’ concern was genuine. “But I assure you, I stay so busy most days that there’s no time to feel alone.”  
  
“Mr. Stark,” she said with an air of grandmotherly seriousness, “since you and Stephen are such good friends, please tell him it’s not good to work too hard. He won’t listen to me or to anyone else - maybe he’ll listen to you.”  
  
“I’ll give it my best shot, Mrs. Feldstein,” Tony promised, making an “X” sign over his deftly hidden arc reactor with the tip of an index finger. “Scout’s honor.”  
  
That seemed to satisfy the kindly old woman, who said her goodbyes and sauntered off.  
  
When she was out of earshot, Tony muttered, “Oh God, why do I know your neighbors.”  
  
Stephen chuckled.  
  
“And is it just me, or does she say we’re _‘such good friends’_ every time she catches me with you?!”  
  
“Does it bother you?” Stephen made a show of unlocking his front door with a key - just in case anyone else was watching.  
  
Tony thought about it for a second, then shook his head. “I guess not. I don’t get the sense that anything around here is really _bothersome_.”  
  
“Just admit it.” Stephen opened the door. “You like hanging around here as much as I do.”  
  
_I like how relaxed you seem when you’re here. It relaxes me, as well._  
  
Sometimes other people’s thoughts streamed out at Stephen, even when no one wanted them to. It made him stop for a second, but only for a second - otherwise, Tony would notice and be alarmed.  
  
He calmly stepped inside, held the door open for Tony.  
  
“Eh.” Tony shrugged, determined to appear cool and aloof at this juncture. “I prefer something a bit more sleek and less accessible. People, you know - not really my jam.”  
  
This was true, as far as Stephen knew - Tony didn’t always like to socialize. He lived a high-profile life where he had to regularly interact with wealthy, powerful, greedy and unpleasant people. His closest associates (Stephen included) knew that he hated most of those people, and helped him avoid them as much as possible.  
  
But as for preferring things to be “sleek” - Stephen wasn’t so sure about that. Tony slept better in the Sanctum - away from his blueprints and gadgets and stalkers(!) and his beloved workshop - and in Stephen’s very down-to-earth bed. They both knew this.  
  
“Well,” Stephen ventured, “maybe you just haven’t 'jammed’ with the right kind of people.”  
  
As soon as Stephen’s door closed, Tony dropped all pretense at being the cool and aloof friend/guest.  
  
He grabbed the front of Stephen’s blazer with both hands, said in a husky whisper: “Yeah, you’re saying you have some jam for me, doc? Come here.”  
  
Stephen gladly dropped any pretense of being a gracious host, in turn. He grabbed Tony by the waist. Pulled him close.  
  
He pushed Tony up against the door and pressed their lips together. In less than a second, there was tongue involved. And hands were going where they otherwise wouldn’t, in polite company.  
  
As soon as the door closed, and they were both safely inside, it was _their_ Sanctum.  
  
  
***  
  
  
In response to Tony whining that he was hungry, Stephen answered, “There’s a perfectly good pizza place a couple of blocks down. We should get dressed.”  
  
Tony, naked in his arms and under the blankets, groaned adorably. “Can’t you just, I dunno…magic up some food or something?”  
  
Stephen chuckled. “I want you to take a walk with me, Stark. Get to know my neighborhood. Think of it as a date. Where I introduce you to my family.”  
  
Tony snorted against his chest. “Yeah, with this sleepy afterglow on my face? I’m not really up to impressing anyone’s family right now, Strange. Found or otherwise.”  
  
“Found” - what an odd term to use. Strange had never really thought about it…  
  
…but now that he had, it was accurate, wasn’t it?  
  
This specific part of Bleecker Street - this decidedly un-gentrified part, unabashedly suburban to its core - was his found family. People who had his back.  
  
Mrs. Feldstein from next door. Mr. Morimo from the grocery store. David from the dry cleaners. Thomas from the cafe. These were _family_.  
  
He held on to Tony a little more tightly. Tony, as headstrong and individualistic as he was, was part of Stephen’s found family. Whether he admitted to it or not.  
  
“Sometimes I don’t get it,” Tony yawned, returning the tighter embrace on instinct. “What makes you like living here? It’s not just the people, is it? Is it the comedy bars? Tell me it’s the comedy bars.”  
  
Stephen took his time answering.  
  
“Let me put it this way…there are places where money has little to no value. Where people do good things for each other without remuneration. When you find places like that, you set your roots in them, hold on to them and call them home.”  
  
Even as he said them, Stephen felt that such idealistic words wouldn’t fly in front of the pragmatic Tony Stark. He could already _feel_ the gears in Tony’s brain working for a rebuttal. He didn’t need to read his mind.  
  
“In our line of work, it’s easy to forget that good people exist. Anyone could go one way or another.” Tony paused. “It’s like…all it takes is a little push, you know? Then sweet old Mrs. Feldstein, deceived by a salestalking hatemonger, would wake up one day driven to spread nasty rumors about you. And maybe for the right price, young Thomas down at your favorite cafe would sell you out to the next astral force that comes in wanting to know…how you take your latte, I dunno.”  
  
Holding back a smile was impossible for Stephen, at this point.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you,” he said in a low purr, “how fucking charmed I am at how well you know my neighbors.”  
  
Tony huffed self-consciously. Stephen leaned down to kiss him, and he returned the kiss with zero protest.  
  
“My neighbors are human, Tony. That’s all. Just human.” Stephen took a deep breath, let it out pensively. “They may wish me ill - and make no mistake, they generally don’t - but that doesn’t stop them from being good people, in the long run. Sometimes they entertain darker fantasies, like stringing me up artfully and doing unmentionable things to my naked body…or breaking into my house and running off with a few things that would help them out with some particularly troubling debts. But they’re still good people. They don’t act on every little thing they think. Once you’ve seen real evil out there in the cosmos, thoughts like that aren’t even worth a raised eyebrow. Words and actions define people, Tony, not their desires or fears.”  
  
Tony stiffened. Stephen had to ask what was wrong.

“Stringing you up artfully and…WHAT?!” Tony cried.

“Oh, well, you know…” Stephen cleared his throat and let the thought trail off. Thankfully, Tony didn’t pursue it.

“Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. You know what, though? I forget you can read minds, sometimes.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I don’t read yours,” Stephen outright lied, with a treacherous smirk. “Much.”

Tony eyed him sidelong. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust that statement one bit.”  
  
He was right to mistrust. Stephen was already reading his mind. And he had just read:  
  
_Maybe I can stay here. With you._  
  
And that flooded Stephen’s insides with warmth.  
  
“You’d trust me more on this matter if you stayed here more often, Tony. Where the good people are.”  
  
Like you. Let me and this place show you how good you really are.  
  
“…And who knows? Maybe you’d learn to love it here, too.”  
  
Tony was silent.  
  
Presently he pulled away, stretched lazily. Lay on his side looking at Stephen’s face.  
  
“You know…Riz from the shawarma place mentioned the last time we chatted that he was putting himself through college. I may just have a hefty tip in it for him if he drops by within the next 30 minutes.”  
  
Stephen sighed, planted a quick kiss on Tony’s forehead.  
  
“Fine, Tony, you win. We’re staying in. I’m calling for shawarma.”


End file.
